Dear Diary
by estranho
Summary: What if Bella didn't remember her life? Would her daughter be able to remind her one last time? All Human. BxE


**AN: I do not own the characters of Stephanie Meyer, only Elizabeth Mason Swan Cullen.**

Today was a good day. My beautiful daughter, Elizabeth came in to see me and we talked for hours on topics of various nothings. While I was listening to her talking, I took the time to really appreciate her features, not knowing the next time I would realise it was her. Her eyes are the most beautiful green. They sparkle in the sun, and sometimes, if the sun hits them in the right way, they turn a gorgeous shade of blue-green, like the ocean. She also has the most beautiful, luscious hair. It is a golden brown colour, just like her father's. She gets her eyes and hair from her father. I don't really remember him. He, along with so many other wanted memories have disappeared. I try and find them everyday but with no success. That is why I ask my grand daughter to come to me and tell me stories from my diary to remind me.

Today she tells me the story of the cabin in the woods. I do faintly remember the cabin. It always had a musty smell but not in a bad way. It was a lovely smell. The cabin itself was small but that was all I needed. My husband and I would go together for a weekend away if we wanted to escape from the stresses of the world or just wanted to be together for a while. We even relished the 2-hour drive up to our retreat as we could spend the precious time talking or simply looking out the windows at the passing scenery. There were never any awkward silences between the two of us. We were simply content sitting side by side.

I always loved the countryside. The weeping willows lining the road and the various cattle bellowing as we passed by and the pastures being so green yet having hints of brown, highlighting the fact that we were entering into a drought. My husband also loved the country. That is why we chose the secluded cabin we did. It was tucked away in the woods yet only about a kilometre away was a large farm with pastures extending as far as the eye can see. It was heaven.

At night it would sometimes get extremely cold. Back then there was no such thing as central heating so we made do with a fireplace and snuggling up to each other wrapped in multiple layers of blankets, holding a hot drink. As much as we looked like marshmallows and large snowballs, we were content. I could not think of a more picture perfect moment.

I think this girl is pretty. She's young. I want to be like her. Who is she? I don't know her. Why is she here? She has pretty eyes. A nice green. They look like the sea. Sparkling. She's holding a book. It looks very old. I wonder what it is. Maybe she'll tell me a story. I like stories.

She talks of a pretty lady and her husband. They sound lovely. They love each other a lot. I want to be loved. I think it would be nice. I also want a cabin. That's what the lovely woman had. I like the woods. That's where the woman's cabin was. It sounds nice.

I want to go to sleep now. I'm tired. Let me go to sleep. I feel happy but sad too. I want to be the lovely lady in the story. Why can't I be the lady? I went to bed curled up in bed, crying. I like my nurse. She's lovely. She gave me the pills again tonight. They help me forget. I love my nurse.

The pretty girl was back today. She told me more stories. They were great. I felt like I was there with the family she talked about. She told me about an old lady. She made her sound beautiful. Pretty hair. Pretty eyes. Brown. The girl laughed when I said I wanted to be the old lady. She laughed at me. I don't know what I did wrong.

Elizabeth returned today. I am not sure why she hasn't come the last few days. I miss her terribly when she is not here. Hers is the only face I can really remember. My darling husbands face left me a few years ago, not long after his death. I miss him dreadfully but whenever I see my daughter, I see him. They look so alike. Same eyes, same hair, same mannerisms. We talk again for hours. She has my tattered diary with her again today. She brings it with her every time she visits, which was why it is so worn. She tells me again the stories written on its pages – some I remember but also many I have forgotten. She talks of the cabin in the woods and also about our family. I always get a little embarrassed when she describes me in my youth. She always makes me sound much more beautiful than I ever was. She makes me sound like a goddess. I always tell her to be realistic but she just gives me that smile, the one where she appears to know something I don't know and then moves on.

28/6/2008

My name is Elizabeth Masen Swan Cullen. Today, at 8:52am, my beautiful mother, Bella, passed away. The nurse found her lying in her bed with her diary held tightly to her chest with a small smile on her lips. She was content. In her own personal heaven. She was back with my father, the love of her life. As a couple, they were inseparable on Earth. Now they are together again for eternity.

I am glad I was able to see her one last time yesterday on a good day. I am glad she could relive her forgotten memories of her family and know the love they have for her.

I am glad she could remember.

**AN: Well there you go. My first story. I hope you liked it. Please review and tell me what you think. **


End file.
